Anthem of a Nobody's Burning Illustration
by AbsoluteObscurity
Summary: What happens to a memory that Namine constructed when the paper that it was created on burns? More importantly, what happens to the person? [AxelRoxas], [OneShot], [slash]


**First fic in a while, so I hope I'm not too rusty. Am not going to bother with a disclaimer because everyone already knows that they aren't my characters, and, as Seifer would say, you all would be 'lamers' to think such a thing in the first place. 3; And I took some artistic liberties with the drawings… Get over it. And this is a quick one-shot. Yaay. :D**

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The halls were long and winding, overlooking an enormous, ruined, front foyer, shards of glass and broken tables littering the floor. He could hear faint whispering as he gently tread across the long-since ruined carpet, ignoring the various chests and the heavy layers of undisturbed dust that had been building up for years, like the anxious feeling that dwelt in his gut. There was a single door at this end of the hallway, nearly mirroring the other side, apart from the fact that this door was slightly cracked open, revealing a sliver of white. He winced slightly, taking a few more tentative steps and finally letting his fingers brush against the door handle… and he pushed it completely open, stepping boldly inside.

There wasn't a soul to be found.

He laughed almost awkwardly, the noise hanging there for an instant before he caught himself and flinched at the sound that insisted on reverberating through the room. It seemed as if the silence didn't appreciate being broken and he silently apologized, taking a few more steps into the empty room, fingers lightly dusting over the table and the leaflets of paper that were strewn across it.

The room was pure, pastel and nearly too bright to look at properly, almost as if the entire area was scolding his eyes for being too used to the dark. Sketches made in something almost like crayon and, in certain instances, some seemed to be created with careful, light strokes of colored pencil were scattered randomly across the room. Some were hanging on the wall, a small amount was on the table and drawing upon drawing coated the floor. It was something that he had to look out for, to keep himself from stepping on them and ruining the work. A few of them were of places that sparked his memory, like dying embers being prodded back into flame, but, one short headache later, the thoughts, however brief, were gone. One window was completely open, streaming in light that illuminated and brightened most of the room, letting little puffs of wind lightly rustle the dozens of papers that covered the room and allowing them to push at the restricting curtains weakly.

He didn't know who he was looking for and, finally finding a patch of wall that wasn't papered in sketches; he leant back against it, one hand brushing through his messy blonde hair, the other pressed up against the plaster, supporting him. Why was he here anyway? After all, summer was slowly winding down and although he hadn't had anything better to do, he didn't feel like it had only been a whim.

Piercing blue eyes passed over the nearest picture before he froze. It was Hayner, Pence, Olette… and someone who looked suspiciously like him, sitting in the Usual Spot, just as they always had. Biting his lip slightly, he found another drawing, one hand slowly passed over the page, his fingers and his rings tracing the two main figures that were scribbled there, his attention casting away from the other image. The one next to them showed a blonde and a redhead standing together, both wearing black coats and facing two others by what seemed to be a gigantic door. The blonde looked strangely like he did, and the redhead…

"Axel," he told himself, tasting the name and feeling a strange lurch in the bottom of his stomach as he continued to stare at the drawing, a lump slowly rising through his throat as he stood up straighter and began to idly toy with his wristband, trying to pretend that he wasn't as horribly confused as he really was. Although, who he was attempting to fool was completely beyond him. He shook the thought out of his mind, clenching one of his fists and taking in a deep breath.

"It took you long enough, Roxas."

The blonde froze, forcing himself to slowly turn around to face the familiar, mocking voice rather than to whip around and give away the fact that he was very deeply disturbed.

He repeated the name again, eyes finally falling on the man that had supposedly been his best friend, once upon a time, and it took effort to hold back a wince. He had to keep his face neutral, had to keep his emotions to himself before something bad was to happen, but, for a moment, he let a flicker of empathy pass across him before he replaced it with his usual expression.

Silence was muffling his thoughts in a horrible way and it took him a moment to find the right words to shatter it again.

"I suppose you want to 'destroy' me then?" He asked, carefully separating the entangled uncertainty from his voice before he continued. "Whatever you're mad at me for, it probably isn't my fault."

He sounded blank. He _felt _blank, and it was strange to him, foreign.

"Orders are orders. If you remembered _anything_, you'd know that right off the bat."

Two chakram were pulled out from mid-air, light sparks of flame encircling the redhead's gloved hands as he grasped onto his weapons, trying to ignore how Roxas didn't even move from his spot. A slip of paper that had been too close ignited into flames and the blonde felt a strange twinge of pain in his leg, staggering back against the wall and trying to shake off the feeling.

Axel paused in his movements, one eyebrow rising at this as he stared, oblivious of the burning page that had slowly drifted to the ground, his own flames licking and tearing at the drawing, half of a paper Roxas ignited into a red and orange blaze. However, he was much busier with staring, wide-eyed at the blonde who was currently occupied with obsessively and quickly brushing down his skin with the flats of his hands and letting out small noises of pain. What was going on? He hadn't even struck out at him yet, so _why_ was he reacting?

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked, a tight feeling against his chest, putting his chakram away and striding across the room, not caring if he stepped on the drawings or not; Naminé would just have to get over it. And, for a moment, he just stood there awkwardly, watching the blonde twist in agony before stooping down and pulling him up by one arm, gloves against Number XIII's skin, slight worry showing in his eyes.

Roxas yelped, swallowing the lump in his throat, twisting away from Axel's grip before he collapsed against the wall again, frantic eyes finally finding a bright, flaming object on the other side of the room, flickering and flaming away. He was next to the drawing that he had been investigating earlier and, after a quick glance at it, he understood.

Everything on those pieces of paper had happened, supposedly, right? Then… if one was torn apart, ruined, or even set aflame, would the same happen to whoever was unfortunate enough to be sketched there?

Apparently so, and, with another groan, he slid down the wall that he had been leaning against, his chest heaving with every breath that he took, and sweat was trickling down the back of his neck. It made sense. It made _sense_, and that was probably what frightened him the most. Thoughts were slowly slipping out of his slackening grasp, watered down memories were escaping his mind as if he had tried to store them in a sieve for safe-keeping.

"Roxas! Roxas!"

Seemed as if Axel was doing his job. He was, although indirectly, effectively destroying Roxas. However, at that moment, he was more than incapable of replying, his movements slowing down and quiet whimpers were all that passed his lips.

A slight burning scent caught Axel's attention and he turned around slightly, trying to keep an eye on Roxas and investigate the smell that, for once, was _not _directly omitting from **him **at the same time. One leaf of paper was shrivelling into itself rapidly, nearly devouring a sketch of a painfully familiar smiling blonde, the embers nearly reaching onto the face.

Roxas was _really _burning, and it was his fault. Green eyes searched the room frantically, trying to think as he shoved a chair out of the way and ignored how it unpleasantly smacked against the floor as he made his way back to the leaf of white. The blonde behind him had collapsed into a heap by now, choked, pained murmurs leaving him as he tried to control himself, tried to stop himself from hurting so. But Axel was normally the one _setting_ fires, not putting them out, and that was horribly obvious as he nearly stomped on it, stopping just in time, in case it hurt the real Roxas before he finally flung himself over the burning piece of paper, smothering the flames with his body.

Number XIII had stopped moving altogether by the time that Axel finally pulled himself up; investigating the charred and frayed sketch of the boy that lay huddled in the corner. Almost everything was pitch black or a deep, ashen gray apart from the younger male's upper right shoulder and his head, but the redhead hardly paid attention to _that_. He was at the final member of the Organization's side in an instant, pulling him up and into his arms gingerly, as if he could suddenly burst into flames if he was too rough, just like how his portrait had so easily done. The blonde was in his lap now, pulled close to the redhead's chest as he gathered himself together, cradling Roxas like he was the only precious thing left on earth. And, for Axel, that was what he truly was.

The room was amiss and slightly helter-skelter now; the chair still lying sideways across the floor, Namine's drawings scattered to new and foreign places from when the stronger Nobody had ran across them, curtains billowing out from the slightly open window, silently flowing and letting the fabric whisper out into the room. For a fleeting moment, Axel understood why the entire town was so fixated on them before he turned his attention back at the blonde. Even for something that he had unintentionally done, he couldn't quite muster up any regret in him. He could _remember _regret; he was once even capable of tasting it, of imitating it… But in truth, he just felt as he always did, incredibly empty. Usually, Roxas made it significantly easier to feel like he had once upon a time, whole and, in a sense, he made him feel as if he was normal, like if he tried enough and was with the younger blonde enough, his heart would pull back to his body and bring back the ways that he used to feel. An empty daydream (he wouldn't dare to call it a hope), and he knew it, but he still found himself conjuring up another thought of what it meant to care for someone else as he held the unconscious blonde even tighter against his chest and closed his eyes, gloved fingers moving through Roxas' flaxen hair just as they had used to.

And, slowly but surely, the ashes of Roxas' paper scattered as the wind pushed him apart.

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**I sure as hell hope you people are satisfied. XD Well, let's see, this has been an… interesting few days. See, I like to think that I'm vaguely experienced when it comes to fire and… well… I forgot how long it took for a piece of paper, computer sized, to ignite into flames. So, I went into my side-room, moved the sheets that could have easily caught alight and promptly set the piece on fire. Well, I must've held it wrong or _something_, because the next thing I knew, the fire was creeping upwards and attempting to eat my ARM. So I promptly had a seizure / heart attack and raced around the room, scattering ashes all over the carpet and flung open the window, throwing it out and more-than-slightly singing my hand. I shook for a good 20 minutes, vaguely petrified.**

**Either way, I'd like to point out that the drawing of Roxas was done on…. Big paper. Biiiiig paper. ENORMOUS paper. That's why he didn't explode / die / wither into pieces instantly… Well, that and the fact that the wind was nearly flickering out the fire every once in a while. Or something. …… How DARE you admonish _me_, Vermin?!**


End file.
